


when i had nothing we still had each other

by benditlikepress



Series: fill in the blanks [3]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, i.... sad, it's a classic jess fic: talking and hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24928432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benditlikepress/pseuds/benditlikepress
Summary: Saturday 20th October 2018. Paris. Tony gets a frenzied phone-call from a hotel across the street.
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Series: fill in the blanks [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820485
Comments: 44
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title from roland fuante – hand over hand. as an aside: I cannot believe I’ve never used this as a fic title before??  
> the logistics are.. kinda fucked. but allow it. not actually a multichap but I split it up just because it got so long

**20 th October 2018**

**Paris**

When Tony’s phone started ringing as he watched Tali and her friend gathering muddy sticks on the wet ground of the park, it took a moment for him to register the sound. Nobody called on a weekend without prior warning, and maybe that’s what made him hesitate: most of him expecting a cold-call, and another more silent part of him questioning if it might be a call he’d barely allowed himself to hope would ever come.

“I think that’s yours.”

Tali’s friend’s mom Corine, a stern but kind-hearted woman who’d taken it upon herself to drag him into the periphery her weekend social group, looked pointedly at his pocket.

“Excuse me.”

He picked his phone out of his pocket as he began to walk away and checked his phone. Private number. The quiet voice in his head began to get louder. With a deep breath, he pressed answer.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

A shot straight through his heart. That voice, in his head, over and over. Desperately calling out for him in every nightmare he'd had in the last few years. Hearing it in Tali's, every time she spoke.

He bought his second hand to grip the phone tighter.

“Ziva? Wha-”

“Where are you?” The sound was barely recognisable – garbled and choked.

“What do you mean, ‘where’?”

“I need to see you. Can you-” she cut off again abruptly, and he realised that rather than it being a line interference she was trying to catch her breath. “Can you meet me?”

“You’re here?”

“Half an hour. Please.”

“Do you want me to come and get you?”

“No, I.. no. Just meet me in half an hour. Hôtel Léo. I am throwing this phone in the trash so I will speak to you then. Room 305.”

“Is it over?”

“No. I’m sorry I cannot say more.”

She hung up before he had a chance to respond, and he stayed stuck with the phone to his ear for a couple of seconds before he was able to pull it away. It took another couple, still, for his brain to catch up with his heart hammering in his chest while simultaneously falling out through his feet.

She was here. She wanted to see him. She was _here_.

Her blunt response to the question had only left more questions than answers, and as quick as the conversation had been Tony could still feel himself sink from the brief hope that this might all finally be over. That he could stop constantly looking over his shoulder. That she’d be able to come home.

It was incredible how just the sound of her voice could send him into overdrive, his mind now whirring with theories and questions and plans and wondering what to do about Tali.

He thought again about the sound of her voice. The tears he could hear her trying to compose so she could talk. The desperation in her tone. He wasn’t sure how Tali would react. Then, he couldn’t not let them see each other. It had been – _fuck_ , two years.

He ran the scenarios over and over in his head at rapid speed, weighing up pro’s and con’s as he’d done almost as an instinct in the past couple of years. The best course of action seemed to be to see Ziva by himself first, and figure out what was going on, before he saw if it would be possible for Tali to see her. God forbid he took her now and something bad happened.

He jogged back over to Tali’s friend’s mom who had seemingly not been paying attention to his conversation, smile plastered on her face as she watched the girls play.

"Corine, I'm so sorry. Family emergency. Would it be OK if I left Tali with you for a couple of hours?"

"Of course. Is everything OK?" Her smile faded as she presumably saw the panic in his eyes and heard the lilt in his voice as he tried to measure it, thoughts frenzied and chaotic.

"Yeah, I just need to go and deal with something. Thank you so much."

Tony nodded at her and began to walk away before she could probe him further, blinking harshly to clear his eyes as he approached Tali.

She looked up from the twigs as he approached, and for a moment he felt himself unable to grasp a hold of his breath as he saw someone else’s face so much in her own.

"Sweetheart, come here for a second."

Tali trotted over to Tony, her attention still grabbed by where she had been playing. "Look at me. Daddy has to go somewhere for a little while, OK? So I'm going to leave you here with Sophia and you can play and then I'll be back to pick you up so we can go home. Corine is going to look after you. Is that alright?"

“OK. Can I play with the sticks?”

“Of course you can.” Tali went to run back over to Sophia but Tony called her back and she turned around to meet him halfway when he bent down, wrapping clumsy arms over his shoulders and allowing him to kiss into her hair. “Be good, alright?”

The desire to follow her as she walked away was overwhelming, alarm bells still ringing in his head. He had to believe Ziva wouldn’t invite him into danger without a warning. Even now, he had to have that much trust in her.

Adrenaline pumping like he was preparing to run a marathon, Tony began his apprehensive walk towards the hotel without pausing to process. No idea what he was going to find when he got there.

* * *

Tony had never fully understood the term ‘seeing a ghost’ until the first time he’d laid eyes on Ziva weeks after first hearing of her supposed death, in a back-alley hotel in the centre of Cairo. She’d been dishevelled, obscuring her face and hair with a headscarf, and equal parts disbelieving and relieved to see him. Wide-eyed and blinking repeatedly as though to check it was really him.

If that was seeing a ghost, he wasn’t sure what to call what he felt when the door to room 305 opened and he laid sight on her for the first time since that day two years earlier. It was as though someone had punched him in the stomach, all of the air leaving his lungs at once and it took all he could to stay standing.

The first thing that struck him was her hair. It was wild and untamed, though not in the way she’d worn it when they first met. It looked frantic, and as though she’d been running her hands through it over and over. Pushing it out of the way of her face.

There was a cut running diagonally by the side of her left eye, a small patch of dried blood in its bottom corner. Her skin, that he could see, was muddy and bloody.

And finally, there was the way she was looking at him. Much as he’d felt when she’d called, she seemed to be having a hard time grasping that he was actually stood in front of her. As though it hadn’t been a conscious action when she’d called, but rather some kind of innate response to whatever it was that had left her in such a state.

He tried a smile that felt out of place and her eyes widened, stuck like glue to him. Her mouth opened but she hadn’t formulated a sentence yet, and it closed again.

“Is this safe?”

“Yes.”

Before she could say anything else he pulled her towards him in a tight hug, grabbing her shoulders tightly and feeling her hair against his mouth.

When he felt her flinch, he pulled back instinctively. One of her hands went to her ribs as he released.

“Sorry.”

She continued to stare at him like he was some sort of visage, finally dragging her eyes away to look briefly around the hallway.

"Where is Tali?"

"At the park with her friend."

"Is she not coming?"

"I wanted to check on you first. She's going to come later."

"Later? Tony, I cannot be here for long. If she-"

Ziva's tone started to get frantic again, just as it had on the phone.

"Hey." Tony reached a hand out to her cheek and the motion paused her mid-sentence. He withdrew it as soon as he’d done it, his hand feeling awkward and misplaced, but she stayed quiet. “I can go get her but I need to know what's going on first. I heard how you were on the phone. Look at you.”

The last statement made Ziva physically look down at herself. Her expression turned a little blank, and her head shook minutely.

She stepped back into the room to allow Tony to enter.

"You are right. You should not have bought her without knowing what was happening."

"And..?" He waited for her to turn back around to face him, though he could see the way her feet dawdled before they spun. She didn’t meet his eyes.

"I had a.. run-in.. with someone who had been following me for a while. I first noticed him in Poznan a week ago."

"He following you?"

"No." The answer was plain, and told him everything he needed to know about how the 'run-in' had ended.

“OK.” He wasn’t sure what else he could say to that other than to accept it. She nodded at his assessment, running her hands over the front of her trousers and looking around the room as though for something to talk about.

“Thank you for coming.”

It was spoken so banal, so plain, that he almost felt as though she was talking about something else entirely.

"I don't really... understand. I don't - why are you here? How are you here?"

"I realise I am-" she cut herself off, maybe having a few seconds delay in noting the tone of Tony's voice. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry? What the hell's going on?"

"I was just... panicking, and I needed to see you. I know it is a bad idea and-"

" _A bad idea_? Ziva, you told me people want you killed. You show up down the street from our daughter covered in some hitman's blood."

He hated the tone of his voice but the frustration that had built up over the years was palpable. It wasn’t fair to Tali. Or him. Most of all Ziva, who seemed cruelly destined to spend her entire life running from threats. The fact that it was still happening to her, _still_ , was hard to stomach.

"I know. This was wrong. I'm sorry. I am just going to-"

She went to flee back out of the door and Tony grabbed her arm a little too forcefully and she winced out of his grasp. She tried again, only this time Tony placed tentative hands on the fabric of her shirt.

She went to object and then changed her mind as he began to lift the material. A long, bloody graze was exposed, extending almost the full length of her forearm. Where wasn’t red was covered in mud and dirt.

"I wasn't thinking." She eventually said as he studied her arm, ignoring it and refocusing on the conversation.

"No, you weren't."

"Should I leave?"

"No. I don't wanna care about that I'm just glad to see you."

"Yes?"

"Are you kidding? I can hardly believe it's actually you."

He barely registered he was smiling until he saw her echo it: small and uncertain and teary. He pulled her into another hug before either of them could say anything else, a real one, cradling her head and smelling her hair and feeling her pressed against him, so familiar even as she was stiff and thin and muted.

“This hurt?”

“No.”

He pulled back anyway, wanting to look her in the eye again now she’d understood he was actually glad to see her. She automatically tried to look away but then drew her eyes back to his, purposefully. They were a little duller than he remembered. He ran his hands away from her, down her arms until they reached her hands. He felt for the first time the cuts that were on them, too.

“God, Ziva. Are you alright?”

“I am fine.” She attempted a smile that even she couldn’t bring herself to believe, mouth lopsided and pressed too tightly. Tony still had a hold of her hand and moved his index finger to capture her own between his. He squeezed them, briefly, and this seemed to displace some of her defences. “Aside from..” There was a signalled acknowledgement of her current appearance that gave Tony a more sincere smile than the one she’d offered. “For now. I am fine.”

“They aren’t here, are they?”

“No. I came here from Cologne.”

“You came from Germany like this? How the hell..”

“A contact of Adam’s drove me. He is long gone.”

Ziva pulled her arm a little and he released her hand. She stepped out of his space and folded them across her chest, as though she was waiting for something.

They were still stood in the centre of the hotel room. Tony looked around it, properly, for the first time: the bed was large and well-made, Ziva’s battered bag placed in the centre. There were large windows overlooking the square below, and it was brightly-lit and pristine. Much in contrast to the both of them.

“This is a nice place.”

“It is. I did not realise.”

He was struck, again, by the banality of her tone. He wasn’t sure if it was denial or shock, the way she was able to so nonchalantly talk about the situation as though it was normal. As though it was a weekend meet-up between old friends.

"Is it safe for you to be here?"

"Anyone following me gives 12-18 hour updates. They wait until 24 without contact before assigning somebody new. I sent a message from his phone while we were still in Germany, which will have bought me some time. So long as I have left here in the next couple of hours, they will have no way of tracking me here."

Tony chuckled, a short and sarcastic sound that seemed to run straight through her. There was bile rising in his throat at the thought. 24 hours; as long as they were able to hold off without the guarantee that someone was trying to kill her. And here she was stood, talking about it as though it were a grocery list. As though it was just another day.

“God, Ziva. You can’t just..” He started talking without thinking – so unlike him in a situation like this. Usually he was able to keep a handle of himself but he could feel himself getting more and more pent up with each second that passed.

How could anyone hate them _this_ much? How could Ziva just accept it?

“What?”

“I don’t hear from you. For _months_. And then you show up out of the blue like this.”

Her eyes were glassy. "You are angry with me. I understand that."

"No, you don't understand. I'm not angry. I feel sick. Sick that this is happening. Sick looking at you like this – that someone is trying to hurt you. Sick that you expect me to leave you here and not do a thing to help."

"You have to. For Tali."

"What about _you_ , Ziva? What about me? Think about what you're asking me to do. You think that's easy for me? You think that's good for me?"

"No, I.... No." Ziva stopped talking and wiped her fingertips across her cheek. "She needs you."

"I know that." His own voice was so quiet now. "So do you. And I need you. It's killing me. I go months without hearing a word. And all I can think is.. what if the last time was _the_ last time? Would I even find out? Would I carry on as normal only to find out you'd been dead for three months? You'll never understand how that feels."

"I.. don't know what to say."

Tony's legs felt a little weak and he pulled out the lone chair from the desk, sitting down and running his hands over his face.

"Maybe that makes two of us." He spoke the words more into his hands than outwardly but he could feel Ziva still watching him intently - concern mixed with guilt etched on her face.

"It's not normal, Ziva. This isn't normal. And it.. it breaks my heart when you talk about it like it is."

In the grand scheme of things it was probably the closest he'd ever got to the entire truth of what he felt inside when it came to her - the sheer ball of concrete that sat on his chest every day she was gone. How it scared him to think about her accepting it: seeing it as the kind of thing she just had to live with, something she deserved. As though she'd accepted it.

"I know it's not. I do. I do not want you to-" Ziva looked like she was going to bend down in front of him and then changed her mind at the last second, standing instead next to the desk and tapping her fingertips against it. "Just because I talk about it like this does not mean I have.. accepted it. I think it is easier, thinking about it like this. If I do not see it this way, I will not be able to get through it. So just.. let me talk about it this way. Please.”

There was a quiet pleading in her eyes, a glean as they widened. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Is it always like this?"

"No. Sometimes nothing happens, for weeks on end. Communications dry up. Everything goes quiet. And a part of me starts to wonder if she is dead, or I am free somehow. Just as I get hopeful, there she is."

"How many times have you been like this? Or worse?"

Ziva gave him a long look. "A couple."

His jaw tightened. Gaze stuck between the cut below her eye and her shaking hands. The way she’d flinched in pain when he’d hugged her.

He swallowed and involuntarily swayed a little backwards and there was a flash of concern on her face.

"I just.. Sorry, I need a minute."

He barely saw Ziva nod as he fled into the bathroom, shutting the door heavily behind him.

* * *

It had been a while since he’d felt this – frenzied, bile-rising panic and his heart beating out of his chest. He braced his hands on the sink.

He was worried it would come off as anger if she saw it: anger she'd think was directed towards her, rather than the reality of it being bloodcurdling fear that turned his stomach and tied it in knots whenever he forced himself to confront what was happening to her while he was trying to hold himself together enough to play happy families for Tali's sake.

Everything that was spilling out now was so carefully handled most of the time. Being a single parent in a situation like this required a lot of keeping a lid on things – smiling and telling little lies and trying to answer impossible questions. How do you tell a 4-year-old that she can’t see her mom because someone is trying to kill her?

The quietly contained fear was bound to start seeping out of him eventually and it was no surprise that it came now he was quite literally face to face with it.

Seeing her standing there like that - bloodied, bruised, dirty. The nonchalant way she said it wasn't the first time something like that had happened.

The desperation in her voice on the phone when she'd said she needed him.

It was the memory of that tone - so unheard of, barely recognisable, that had guilt rising that he'd left the room. As much as he could fear his words coming out wrong while emotions were high, he realised how much more likely that was when she couldn't even see his face as he tried to convey the complexity of what it was that was going on in his head, hard enough for him to understand.

He thought about the mud caking her skin and turned on the bath taps, spending a few seconds watching water fall from the faucet and begin to slowly fill the tub.

It was a struggle to get his breath back to a normal cadence – to stop its shakiness, and cover the practised way it sounded when he was trying hard to even it out.

He looked into the mirror properly for the first time and took in his appearance. He didn’t remember looking this old when he left the apartment this morning – bags under his eyes that seemed to have appeared in an instant. He realised now that he’d forgotten to shave; something he’d never have done in his ‘old life’, back when he was far more concerned about his appearance and far less concerned with spending time watching morning kids’ TV.

He ran a hand through his hair and hit his cheeks lightly a couple of times, trying to encourage some colour and a jolt of consciousness. He attempted a smile he hoped would be comforting but came out the wrong side of pathetic and dropped it again.

When he emerged back into the main room, Ziva was stood to the side of the window, tipping her head to look out of it with only the top half of her face visible from outside.

Her arms were crossed over her chest and one hand was up towards her face.

"I'm running a bath. Should take a look at those cuts. When was the last time you showered?"

His voice came out strong and surprisingly composed, and it implored her to finally turn towards him. There was a tear track on her left cheek, and she swiped the drop away before it fell from her jaw. He could see her shaking. "I honestly cannot remember. The days sometimes blend together."

"It'll be good - for the cuts, I mean. Keep them clean. They could get infected."

"Thank you."

They stood, a few metres apart, neither of them sure what to do next.

"I'm sorry. I didn't.. mean to upset you."

"You didn't. It is not you. How is she? We have not spoken since.."

Tony sat down on the edge of the bed and watched Ziva as she stood in the centre of the room, arms still crossed over her chest. "Her birthday. You rang just before her birthday."

"Right."

"She's good. She's really good. She's really coming out of her shell in the last few months. She's doing great at school."

"I was there on the first day of the year. I wondered if she would cry. She always found saying goodbye difficult. I-" Ziva trailed off, conversation steering back into troubled waters.

"She talks about you all the time."

"I am not sure how much she could really remember, realistically."

"She remembers. It's not just me telling her who you are. _She knows_."

"Do you have a picture?"

It was abrupt and it surprised Tony; the certainty with which she spoke.

"You can see her for yourself in a little while."

"I know. I just.. it has been a long time since I have seen her up-close."

Tony reached into his pocket for his phone and opened up the image that was his current lock screen - a picture of the two of them together at the park. Ziva sat down next to him on the bed and took the phone from his hands delicately, as though it might break. Her face lit up in a way that made him ache.

"She is getting so big. Look at her."

"I know. She weighs a ton."

"Her hair is getting long. It reminds me of my sister's."

"She looks so much like you, Ziva. It's insane."

So much so that a glimpse at either of them would send a little flip through his chest for the other one.

"It is getting darker now, hm? I wondered if it would - I was very dark-haired. She got that from your mother."

The easy way she said it, the illuminating way it became clear she'd thought it many times before, only made him stare at her more. There was a calm focus to her voice that had been missing before - a lack of anxiety about her words.

Tony wasn't sure a conversation about hair had ever been so revealing in recorded history but the weight behind what was being said wasn't lost on him. It was absurd that they could've only ever had one or two casual conversations like this about Tali and she was already 4 years old. Absurd still that they could have one in a circumstance like this, blood threatening to drip into Ziva’s eye while he stared at her like she was the only thing in the universe.

She rested a finger on top of the screen. Her hands were still shaking even as she spoke with a wistful brightness. "She is still exactly the same. She has grown up, but she is just the same. Just as I remember her."

"I forget, sometimes, you can't have photos. Right?"

"No. A couple of times Adam has got some taken for me, just so I can see, but they get destroyed immediately. I used to worry that my memories of them would fade with time, but it has not happened. It is like the images are seared into my brain."

When Ziva realised he'd stopped engaging in the conversation, content with watching her, she put his phone back in his hands with a small watched smile that he could hardly believe he was seeing.

He wasn't sure if it was instinct or genuine pain that sent her fingertips to her eye wound when the skin crinkled there. She touched it with averted eyes and patted the dried blood.

"You alright?"

"It is drying. Not an issue."

"Ziva, that looks nasty."

The change in tack seemed to reignite a spark of agitation.

“I have had worse. Really, it’s fine.”

"Do you have any stuff? Bandages?"

Ziva signalled her bag and flicked her wrist a little as permission for Tony to open it.

"I am not sure. I left in a hurry."

Unceremoniously, he tipped the contents of the bag out onto the bed and surveyed its contents.

Two shirts. A pair of underwear. A piece of fabric he assumed was a headscarf. A box of energy bars. A handful of tampons. 3 knives, of varying sizes. A pack of tissues. A clear bag of white pills.

He lifted them up and moved the pills around in his fingers. He could feel Ziva watching him.

"You get these from someone you trust?"

After a moment, she nodded. "They are just for anxiety. When I need them."

"Have you taken one?"

"No. I wanted to.. have a clear head."

"'s not up to me, but maybe you should. Think about it."

He wondered if it sounded preach-y, beyond what he was entitled to tell her after so long apart, but she nodded readily. “I will.”

After another long look in which neither of them was in a rush to break eye contact Tony stood up, straightening out the legs of his jeans to give his hands something to do while he convinced himself of the right idea.

"OK, there's a pharmacy across the street. I'm gonna go and pick up some stuff while you get in the tub."

"OK."

Her voice sounded so small and unfamiliar that he almost changed his mind immediately.

"Is there anything else you need?"

Ziva shook her head. "Not that I can think of."

"Alright, I'll be quick. Make sure the door locks when I leave."

He headed purposefully for the door before he could change his mind, but found himself lingering when he reached it and he could feel her stood behind him having followed him over.

"Be back soon." He turned his head to speak across his shoulder, his gaze not quite meeting her direction. When he was out of the room and jogging down the corridor he prayed she'd still be there when he got back.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony had always found the bright synthetic lighting of a pharmacy to be disorientating. There was something phoney about them: something strangely like stepping outside of your regular life when you were inside.

This had never been more heightened than it was as he strolled around this unfamiliar one a couple of minutes from the hotel, piling his arms with supplies as he tried to process everything that had happened.

She was here. In Paris. She was really here, sat waiting for him. The information was almost impossible to compute - harder still to accept, knowing that it was only temporary.

Though he wanted nothing more than to run straight back and not leave again, another part of him was grateful for the break. He knew it was selfish but it was hard to see her like that; so watered down and broken, the way she was hesitant towards him as though she feared what was coming next. The fact she'd reached out because she'd needed to see him for some kind of comfort, in spite of the risks, told its own story.

She _was_ fearing what was coming next, he knew that for sure. But there was something beyond that too. Her happiness to see him undercut with not just fear for her safety, but fear about him too. Like she wasn't sure what he wasn't saying out loud.

To tell the truth, he wasn't sure himself. The emotions he felt towards seeing her were so mixed and muddled with a million other things: this threat to her life, Tali, everything that happened when he first left Israel all of those years ago. The fact that, even now, forces were fighting to keep them apart.

Still, though, it existed between them: the way he could look at her and understand in her eyes things she wasn't saying out loud. The way his heart felt like bursting out of his chest when she said his name. The desire to protect her, to fight alongside her, to wait every single day for the rest of his life if it meant one day she'd be back for good.

As he paid for his items he pondered this in his head. It was evident Ziva needed some kind of reassurance of this, things having got clouded after years apart. They'd never been good at putting what it was between them into words, and she would be the first to say so.

It was more important now than it had ever been. If they were going to get through this, they both needed to be honest.

He stopped at a sandwich shop and grabbed two pre-made sandwiches before jogging across the street and back into the hotel.

The room was quiet and empty when he returned, though the fear didn't have a chance to fully settle in his stomach before he saw the steam escaping from under the closed bathroom door.

He tapped lightly on the wood.

"Ziva?"

“You don’t need to knock.”

He pushed the door open and immediately his eyes were drawn to the bath. Ziva was sat up at the opposite end to the taps, knees drawn up in front of her. Her hair was wet and caked back against her head.

Her arms looked thin – too thin, still covered in dirt. Her facial features looked small and suddenly young as she looked up at him in the doorway.

After a moment’s hesitation he sat down on the floor next to the porcelain, placing the plastic bag next to him on the floor. He didn’t want to seem as though he was watching her, so he sat parallel to her, shoulders equal and his legs stretched out in front of him.

The atmosphere had died down now – things were quiet, and thoughtful, and though he wouldn’t call it calm it wasn’t fraught, either.

“I, uh.. got everything.”

“Thank you. You did not have to.”

“I wanted to.” He shrugged his shoulder against the bath as he watched her over it. “You alright?”

"I took a pill."

"OK. Good. How's it working?"

She lifted a hand out of the water and held it horizontally. A little shake.

From this angle through the water he could see a bruise above her hip, purple and mottled. He thought it must hurt, bunching it up to sit how she was.

"I'm sorry for getting frustrated."

"You are allowed to be."

"It's not your fault. I don't blame you. I hope you know that."

"I do."

He watched for any further sign of reaction, but one didn’t come. He bit on his lip. "I'm just worried. And scared. And.. I hate that this is happening. Still."

“I should not have got upset when you were talking. You deserve to talk about these things without interference.”

“Interfering, who’s interfering? If I’m allowed to be upset, so are you.”

“There is a difference between me and you in all of this, Tony.”

“Which is..?”

She stilled and turned to him with a frown, as though confused by his lack of understanding. “You are a bystander. This – all of this, it is on me. If it were not for me, none of this would be happening to you.”

“So what – you think it’s your fault?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then I don’t know what you mean.”

Ziva didn’t respond, and when Tony twisted a little so he was diagonal to her rather than parallel, looking at her more clearly, she still didn’t look like talking.

There was a healing scar, strangely-shaped and uneven-edged, below her ribcage on the right-hand side opposite the bruise on her hip. She ran her finger along it slowly, ghosting at the raised skin. His heart was in his throat. Her expression was blank.

Seeing her like this: seeing her numb, was a long-forgotten feeling he'd never had any desire to revisit. It was different this time, though - jaggedy and fraught, eyes vacant but panic festering behind them.

“I cannot believe I came here.”

She spoke so suddenly that Tony almost jumped, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah.” The word sounded weak, and useless, but she turned to look at him as though she’d forgotten he was in the room.

“It is so unlike me. That I would put everything at risk like this, I..”

“I think it’s like you said. You were just scared.”

“I am _always_ scared, Tony. I _always_ want to see you. I don’t know why today. ”

“Maybe there isn’t a particular reason. Maybe it’s just one of those days.”

“Hm.”

He’d had enough days like that himself: days where, had he known her location, he had no doubt he’d have booked a plane ticket and just ran until he reached her. Screw the consequences.

He had a feeling that their mutual awareness of this was precisely the reason she never told him even which continent she was on until she’d already left.

“Hey, here.” Tony rummaged in the bag and produced a sandwich, which he placed on the rim of the bath. "Thought you might be hungry."

He took his own out of the bag and unwrapped it, and it only took a couple of seconds before Ziva was doing the same.

He hadn't expected her to, but she took a large confident bite. He could see, though, that it almost instantly turned her stomach, and she set it down while she slowly chewed. He tried not to watch her though it was hard not to – hard to tear his eyes away after so long with a pit of dread in his stomach that he might never be able to look at her again.

She returned his gaze once or twice, eyes slowly shifting between him and the bath water in front of her as she slowly ate.

Tony finished quickly, though he took much longer than necessary folding the wrapper up before placing it in the trash so had a way of occupying his hands. Ziva continued absently, picking pieces of the sandwich off one at a time in a way that was so uncharacteristic of her. As though she thought at any moment she might have to stop and leave.

She put the other half of the sandwich back in its wrapper and leaned up out of the bath to place it behind the sink. “I will take the rest with me. Thank you.”

She gave him a smile that, though muted, was possibly the most genuine she’d expressed so far. The one he returned seemed to take her aback in its brightness before she sunk back into the bath, head against the back board and her eyes closed.

“Make sure you’re eating enough.” The statement seemed to surprise Ziva, who opened an eye. “Please. Don’t make me worry about that too.”

She looked at him for a long moment, before submerging her head fully in the water.

She braced her hands on either side of the bath and pulled up, removing her hair from the water and returning to a sitting position. Ran hands over her face to rid it of water.

“Do you want me to..” He signalled the shampoo. Ziva smiled a little, even more genuinely.

“I can manage.”

It was a little mesmerising, watching the way she methodically and slowly shampooed her hair. Making sure to capture every wayward strand, moving her bruised hands therapeutically over her scalp and dipping them in the water to clear them.

“Will you pass me the shower head?”

Tony grabbed it and turned it on at the opposite end of the bath, running the water over his hands until he felt the temperature adjust and passed it over.

She rinsed her hair thoroughly, allowing the water to drip over her features and run lines of bubbles down the sides of her face. She passed it back to him with a quiet thanks and then submerged herself into the bath again, a little more forcefully now, sending a splash of water onto Tony’s shirt as he leaned over the tub.

“Sorry.”

“I probably deserved that one. Free hit.”

She stood up without hesitation, her thin frame nude and dripping. His gaze stuck on the prominence of the purple bruising on her side and hip. Tony stepped away quickly to find the towels he should've got out earlier, locating them in a cupboard underneath the sink. He passed her the biggest one and she wrapped it around herself absently, using the corner of the fabric to roughly wipe her face dry.

"Sit down here." Tony pointed at the closed toilet lid. "Let me have a look at these cuts."

The bathroom seemed to get more crowded as the two of them tried to fit into the small area, and Tony sat down after Ziva on the rim of the bath up against the sink. He spread his legs to allow him to lean forward and she allowed them to encase hers. A movement that suggested familiarity. Security.

He went down her limbs slowly, drying the cuts and scrapes. A couple of them had started bleeding again after being in the water and he took extra care with those ones, dabbing the blood gently.

Ziva was quiet as he moved, applying bandages without looking up at her face. He left the older ones free, figuring that was more appropriate for the healing process.

He thought about questioning her on one or two, but decided against it for now.

"Gave as good as you got, huh?" He gingerly touched her knuckles as he wiped them.

“It is from a bottle. On my rib.” It came from nowhere but she watched him as she said it, as though testing his reaction.

“I wasn’t gonna ask.”

“I know you weren’t.”

She continued watching him but her expression changed as he cleaned her knuckles and it made him slow. It was difficult to tell what she was thinking.

“What?”

“I think I thought if I saw your face I would..” She drifted off and shook her head as though out of a trance. “I just wanted to feel better.”

“I know.”

He put a hand under her chin to encourage her to lift her head towards him, and held it as he began to wipe the cut. Ziva winced, hardly, as he did it.

"Sorry. That sting?"

"I should be the one apologising."

"For what?"

Ziva didn't answer as Tony looked at her from this position leaning over her face. The hand on her chin moved to her cheek, turning her head further to look at the cut. "I don't think your head needs chopping off. What's your preference on band-aids – regular or heart shaped?"

"Regular is fine, thank you."

He wondered if she felt like he was smothering her. He was surprised at how willing she was to let him do all of this. How tired she was to not object. Convince him she was fine.

Again, she read his mind.

"I would not think any less of you if you decided all of this was not worth it."

"But Tali-"

"I am not talking about Tali." Tony inhaled slowly and put the bandages down on the rim of the bath next to his leg. Her voice raised slightly in volume. "I don't understand why you do all of this for me."

"You do. Maybe it doesn't make sense to you, but you understand why. You should probably change these at some point." He heard a short, sharp exhale and lifted his head to see the sliver of a smile on Ziva's face. "I know. You know more about this stuff than me, anyway."

"I will change them."

"'Kay. Good." Tony put the remaining bandages and other items back into the bag, folding it over a couple of times to reduce it in size so Ziva could pack it into her rucksack.

With Tony’s hand withdrawn from her Ziva re-adjusted her towel, rubbing at still-wet patch on her arm before looking around the bathroom.

"Could you pass me that robe?"

Tony stood up to move out of Ziva's way and anchored himself with a hand on her leg as he did so, touch barrier now more relaxed and instinctual. He turned to the door to reach for the robe and when he turned back she was drying herself again, running the towel over her body and then lifting it away to quickly dry her hair.

"I'll just.." He bent down to place the bag at her feet and went to leave her in the room but her hand reached out to his wrist. He straightened his back a little as she held on, meeting her eyes and seeing the conflict in her expression.

"I am not sure how to.." She started and stopped, staring at their touching skin now. She rubbed her thumb against his wrist bone like a distraction. "I want to say thank you. For everything you are doing. But I have no idea where to begin."

"You don't need to." His tone was relenting and he could hear a kindness in it as he spoke them, and Ziva frowned more at herself than him.

"No, I do. I am.. not myself, I realise that. You are always so patient. You do not even question it."

"What is there to question? You know how I feel, Ziva. We made that clear in Cairo."

"I know. But there is a difference between what you feel and what you are willing to sacrifice for it."

It was a very old-Ziva thing to say: to weigh love against personal sacrifices. He was never sure if she'd believed that when she spoke that way back then but he knew that she understood the reality now - you only had to spend 5 seconds considering her current dynamic with Tali to see that. Now, though, there seemed to be an added dynamic of accepting how that transferred onto herself. Years of separation and fighting and anxiety leaving her head muddied.

"There isn't. Not where you're concerned."

His words, again, seemed to hold more weight to her than he thought possible. He saw her swallow and twisted his hands so they were holding hers properly.

He always forgot how small her fingers were until he encased them with his own. It was fascinating - the way something that looked so fragile could cause so much damage. She frowned down at them as he moved his fingers before her other hand came up and stroked over his.

“I am trying to figure out how to say the things that are on my mind.”

“OK.”

“Come. We cannot stay in here all day.”

It hadn’t been what he’d been expecting her to say, but still he listened and used his hand to pull her to her feet. She didn’t let go of his hand immediately, giving it a squeeze that encouraged him to look her in the eye again and see the silent words behind it before they dropped hands and left the bathroom.


	3. Chapter 3

"You want something else to eat?"

"No, thank you. I really couldn't."

"Wanna take a nap?"

"I am not sure I could do that, either."

Still, Ziva climbed onto the bed. Lay on her side tentatively, her bandaged graze held out in front of her and facing upwards.

"Come and lie down."

His legs moved of their own volition with the pristine calmness of her voice, inviting and a little tired but with a warmth he'd forgotten how much he'd missed.

He lay down next to her on his back so she was watching over him. Placed his hands together on his chest, interlocking his fingers loosely. He could see her watching them out of the corner of his eye and felt the minute movements of her body shuffling against the bed and then his side as she inched closer to him.

"I did not ask you to come so you would take care of me."

"I know you didn't." He could see the start of an argument forming on her tongue. "I was always going to, though."

"Why?"

"Because part of me feels guilty."

"I do not see what you could possibly have to feel guilty about."

"It's not right. Any of this. I should be helping you."

"You are exactly where you need to be."

"Doesn't make it right." The silence that followed was again notable as she looked up at the ceiling. He was struggling to remember her ever so restrained in conversation - ever more clearly internal. "I wish I knew what was going on inside your head."

"I am not sure I know myself most of the time."

"I know there are probably things you aren't telling me, still. I know you're doing that to protect me. I'm not gonna push you on it if you don't want to tell."

"It is not just you I am thinking about, Tony. If I tell you everything - though I mean it when I say that is hardly anything right now - I know you will want to help. That is just who you are. But it is not what you need. And it is definitely not what Tali needs. Both of us know how it feels to grow up with two parents who you never see because they had passed or they were too busy or preoccupied. The last thing I want is for her to grow up feeling like an afterthought. Like she has been.. abandoned. All I want is for her to be safe. The best thing you can do for me - for all of us, is stay with her."

"I know. I know you're right."

"Your face is saying differently."

"What happened to us?"

He knew it was a loaded question, out of the blue as it was, but even so the slight shake of Ziva's body as she chuckled was unexpected. She backed her head away slightly so she could look him properly in the eye.

"Honestly?"

"Yeah."

She leaned into him properly and lips brushed his shoulder in what could be called a kiss. "I think a part of me saw this coming from the day we met."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Just that.. things get complicated, when other people are involved. When things become as interwoven as this. I saw it coming a mile away. If I could go back in time, I would tell you to run as fast as you could."

Her voice was so simple and stark - achingly transparent, as though this was something she'd always thought but never been able to voice before.

"I wish.." The words died as quickly on her tongue as they'd started. He watched as she wrestled with the thought, eventually closing her mouth again.

"I know."

For the first time since they'd reconnected, the moment threatened on the verge of something else as they continued to stare at each other.

He leaned over, just a touch, and the way her eyes flicked downwards provided confirmation. The kind of silent understanding that had accompanied them through every day, together or apart.

When their lips finally met it was slow, and purposeful, and tired. Tony rested his forehead against hers and slowly nuzzled it.

"God, I miss you." The words were a whisper against her lips as they separated before he covered them again, more forcefully. He wanted nothing more than to feel her, to taste her, to commit every part of this moment to his memory so that he'd never forget how it felt.

In spite of all of it, though, he didn't think about going any further. When his hands began to wander around her waist he stopped himself, kissing her once more before pulling away. Rather than creating space between them he turned onto his side so he could face her properly.

She stared at him, almost nose to nose. The expression on her face was warm but there was still something lingering behind it.

"I miss you too."

"Yeah?"

"How can you ask that?"

"Guess I'm still getting used to acknowledging this. Hearing the words is a little.. I mean, after all this time."

"I miss you more than you realise." She leaned in to kiss him again and he allowed her to – sensing her need to show rather than express in words what it was she was feeling. This time, when she pulled away, there was a smile on her face that was veering on the edge of self-conscious. He ran a hand up and down her arm.

"I remember what you said in Cairo. About how I should.. put a pin in this, for my own sake, and not let thinking about you stop me from enjoying my life while you're away. I didn't argue it at the time but I wouldn't even know how to begin to tell you how impossible that is."

She touched his hair with a look of sad reverence in her eye, glossy and focus vacant.

They'd addressed things head-on - finally stated the words they'd been fussing and humming over for years, but the actual details of what it meant in practical terms had been muddied by the bombshell of Tali and their joint mental states and the new ever-present threat hanging over their heads.

They'd acknowledged the consequences of the meaning of the words only so far as to question how they would handle being apart. Ziva had tried to suggest Tony shouldn't feel an obligation to wait for her back then, too - something so ludicrous and outside of his realm of understanding that he'd spent a lot of time since thinking over her meaning.

He saw it, now, for what it was: another way of trying to protect him.

"We didn't really talk about it. In Cairo. We were too busy talking about the fact I suddenly had a daughter to take care of."

“Do you want to talk about it now?”

“I’m not sure what to say. Do you know how often I think about this?" Ziva's hand stilled as he tilted his head to her. "Thought I'd have figured out what to say by now. I don't know where to even begin. How long have we got?”

Tony flicked the lock button on his phone to check the time and the screen lit up.

"She looks happy." Ziva was looking at the same picture she’d been staring at earlier, he and Tali together with big smiles plastered on their faces.

"She is. I like to think she is. Obviously not every day is a walk in the park, but.. we get through it."

"You look happy in this, too. Happy to be with her."

Tony looked down at the phone in his hands and analysed the smile on his face. He _did_ look happy. The kind that came easily some days and others he could barely acknowledge as ever belonging to him.

"Y'know." It was invitation for more questions - an avenue for Ziva to keep talking, more than it was a way for him to respond. Still, it seemed to make her take pause.

"I realise this is not how you imagined your life going."

"I don't really think that way."

"No, I expect you don't." Her voice was warm rather than sarcastic.

"I don't think anyone has the life we expected. It's not about settling. It's about.. realising what's important to you, and fighting for it. That’s what this is to me. That’s what _you_ are, to me.”

“I wish you did not have to fight for it like this, Tony. It should not be this hard. You do not deserve it.”

"You don't see it that way?"

"I do. Believe me, it is all _I_ am fighting for. I just.. I worry about you. Committing to something like that before it happens."

"Ziva, I've always been committed to it."

"I know you have. But we do not know how I am going to be after this. If I am like this all of the time, or worse.." Her eyes dug into his own. "You will get frustrated sometimes, and angry. That is only natural: you would not be human if you didn't. I just do not want you to feel an obligation. I could not live with myself if I was the reason for your unhappiness."

"Neither of us can be sure. But my eyes are open, OK? My eyes are wide open. You’re gonna have to trust me on that.”

He couldn't stop touching her now; hands on her neck and face and arm and hip and leg, fingers absent as he talked but seeking out comfort for something that hadn't yet happened.

“I trust you.”

The response was almost instinctual, quick and without thought, and Tony wondered how it was possible for them to believe that so implicitly after everything that had happened. The knowledge that they spoke, now, without malice or hidden agendas of confusion, was a symptom of how much work had gone in over the years to building such a solid relationship in the first place.

It may not have been conventional, but Tony wasn’t sure there were many people on earth who had the same connection that they did, after everything that had transpired between the two of them. Years of hiding and self-preservation meaning that when the other shoe did finally drop there was nothing left but the two of them laid bare.

His thoughts came back to the present as he ruminated on how this related to Ziva’s feelings now. The way that she, even knowing what he felt, could question whether it was the right decision for him to be doing all of this. As though it was a decision at all. 

"Where did all this come from, Ziva?"

"Two years with only my own thoughts for company. I have had a long time to think about everything that has happened."

He remembered her echoing such sentiments before - how she'd come to him, after Somalia, and apologised for the Rivkin affair following a summer with only her own thoughts as company. The implications having made him feel sick.

Guilt had a tendency to eat away at her – someone so inside her own head that it was difficult to see how situations looked from the outside. He thought about the conversations they’d had about Ari in Beersheba. How she’d carried it for all of those years and nobody had even noticed.

“You’re not the only one who’s been thinking. I know we're having to put things on hold - our lives, for a start. But I don't wanna put that on hold. I can't."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I'm not suggesting anything, exactly. I just.. I want to be sure you understand what it is I'm doing here. What you said in the bathroom - this isn't just about Tali for me. I need to be sure you understand that. I'm never going anywhere."

"What if it takes years?"

"Then you'll have to deal with my grey hair."

“I think that will bother you more than it does me.”

Suddenly there were tears stinging in his eyes, ones that had been threatening ever since his phone began to ring hours earlier and had been pushed down by concern and anger and a desire to help someone evidently more in need of it than himself. He lifted a fist to rub them away and the motion made Ziva take notice, lifting herself upwards to look at him properly. Her own hand pulled his away and she wiped his eye with the pad of her finger.

"How is this all gonna end?" He eventually broke the silence with a question that made her blink.

"There is only one way it can end."

"And then what? What do you want to do, when all of this is over?”

"Tony, I love you. That is one of the only things I am certain of. What that means for the future, I don’t know. I suppose that is up to you.”

Hearing the words from her mouth was a novelty: a sweet sound that made him want to choke on their weight, finally spoken in such an impossible circumstance. "I just want to be with you, Ziva." He added her name as an afterthought, focusing on the way it felt on his tongue. "That's all I need. Everything else is just noise."

"It is as simple as that?"

"Yes. It is. The other stuff," Tony hesitated, "we'll figure it out."

The way he spoke had Ziva's eyes back on him, the tears he blinked away forming a minute frown.

"I feel as though your thoughts are easier to decipher than mine, but I still know you are holding back. I wish I knew what was going on inside _your_ head."

"Try me. I'm an open book."

"Are you looking out for yourself?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you?"

He gathered her in his arms and encouraged her head into his chest. Her ear was resting above his heart and he wondered if he could hear it pounding, still - how it had been ever since he picked up the phone hours ago.

"There's no simple answer to that. I've seen you, though. That's one less thing to worry about, at least for now." If he tilted his head down he could just about see the worry lines appear between her eyebrows. "If you're gonna tell me I shouldn't worry.."

"I know there is no point in me saying that. I just wish you did not have to." She began stroking his chest over his shirt, stopping to fiddle with a button. Her own shirt had ridden up from her change in position and he could see the bruise on her side. He resisted the urge to touch it, instead making little stroking motions on the skin below her hip.

"It's just all of this. I thought it'd get easier with time - routine, getting used to things. It doesn't. Maybe me and Tali have stuff down now but I think more about you every day."

"I think about you too. It is strange - there are things I miss that I did not even acknowledge before."

"Like what?"

She re-adjusted, resting her arms flat against her chest and her chin on top of her hands. Nowhere to hide from her gaze.

"I have experienced so many different emotions in the years we've been apart but the one thing that has always stuck with me is how quiet my life is without you in it."

"You're being chased around the world by someone trying to kill you."

"It is a different kind of loud.”

“Didn’t realise you’d miss that.”

It was the kind of self-deprecating humour Tony knew would always make Ziva smile, and it did – a soft melting one that she shook away.

Ziva’s head ended up back down against him, a feeling so light even as the weight pressed on his chest.

"Where were you when I rang?"

"At the park with Tali's friend. We were gonna go for lunch after and then go and buy some shoes for pre-k."

"School shoe shopping?" There was a note of affection in Ziva's voice, as though talking to someone young.

"She goes through a pair every week, I’m not kidding. And she is _not_ an enthusiastic shopper."

"Are you buying ones with proper soles?"

Tony rolled his eyes and poked her in the upper arm, gesture more playful than any of the time had allowed. " _Yes_ , mom. It's like she spends her day kicking rocks around."

"Tell me about her."

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything. Tell me a story."

Tony wracked his brain, filtering through years of carefully curated and sorted memories.

"Ah. Alright. So a couple of months ago I’m lying in bed asleep and I hear this noise coming from the kitchen. I freak out, I’m feeling around in the dark for a gun even though I don’t have one. And when I get out of bed and go into the kitchen what do I see? Tali, sat on the floor, eating ice cream at 5am.”

“What?”

“Uh-huh. She _says_ woke up and got hungry, but nothing’s stopped her from jumping all over me for that reason every day. I think she’d had her eye on it ever since we went grocery shopping.”

“Do you not have a child lock on the freezer?”

“I did. I had to take it down.”

“Why?”

“I kept forgetting it was there and breaking it off.”

“You.. got fooled by the child lock?”

“I’m not the centre of this story, alright? Your daughter woke up at 5am to steal my ice-cream!”

“You realise that could just have easily been a story about you doing the exact same thing?"

“Ice-cream? No. Pizza? Maybe. But spend enough time with me, I rub off. Don’t think I never did the same to you.”

Ziva didn’t respond, instead chuckling into his chest in a way much lighter than he’d expected. They both quietened down again as though this fact was settling in – the way they could still make each other smile, even now.

The surrealism was appreciated, though Tony wondered how much of this wasn't actually hitting him. Whether he was only able to talk right now because he hadn't fully comprehended what was happening.

In a way, the fact that it had come out of the blue was a blessing. He wasn't sure he'd be able to get through this if he'd had time to see it coming.

"Have you been to watch us lately?"

"No. It has been a while. It is too dangerous to do it often. And.. it is hard, doing it often."

"In what way?"

"Seeing you but knowing I cannot talk to you. Touch you. Even acknowledge that we know each other."

"God. I mean.. I know it's necessary, I get it, but it's just insane. All of this is insane."

"I know. I realised that very quickly on. These are not normal people. They are.. obsessive. Ruthless. As a combination, there are few more dangerous."

"Do you know any more about it? I mean, what's going on? What they want with you?"

"I am still trying to figure that out."

“Where are you going now?”

“Spain. I have a contact who has a car I can use. If I am lucky, I will be able to lay low for a while in Valladolid.”

"That's not happening."

"It is the safest way."

"No, it's not. You driving in this state is almost as dangerous as walking while wearing a shirt with your face on it."

She lifted her gaze towards him, went to argue, and then stopped. Turned away again.

She looked so tired.

"I will get the Eurostar to England. It may be good for me to be off the mainland for a couple of days."

"You'll need a passport, right?"

"I have one. I can pick up weapons quickly when I get there but I will not be able to get my pills through. I will have to find a way to contact Adam.”

“Do you want me to?”

“I-” Ziva hesitated. “I would rather you did not get involved. I do not want to take any chances.”

He felt his own anxiety rising again at the implications of her words. The thought of what she’d be doing, again, as soon as she left here. Maybe he’d almost began to kid himself that seeing her today was a signifier that it was almost over.

He had no way of knowing how long it would be. When he’d even see her again. _If_ \- he pushed the thought away as soon as it surfaced, but his grip on her must have changed because she turned her head up to look at him again.

"Ziva, please don't go. Just stay."

His voice came out more cracked than he'd expected. He didn't expect an answer, of course, but he saw her wrestle with one just the same. The back of her knuckles came up to draw long his jaw and chin.

"I don't know how I'm gonna let you leave when you're like this."

She sat up at that, crossing her legs from her position tight against him. The look in her eyes was one of effortless warmth as she stroked his face. "I am fine, Tony. I will be. You have no idea how much it has helped seeing you."

"If you're ever not.. you just call me, alright?"

"You know I cannot do that, Tony, no matter how much I want to. This today, this is.."

"I know. I still need to say it, though. Any time, anywhere.”

Tony had always wanted a family but he realised now, looking back, how naive he'd been to the realities of what that meant. That saying you'd do anything for your family wasn't just a figure of speech - that he'd throw himself in front of anything, travel the world 100 times over, give up everything he knew if it meant keeping them safe.

"You are a good man, Tony."

"Sorry, can you say that again?"

The tired smirk on her face was like a bolt through his heart as she tapped him on the arm, coarseness well and truly a thing of the past in spite of the conversation topics still veering in that direction.

Tony pulled his phone out of his pocket and began to dial Corine's number.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling our daughter."

Unexpected panic flashed across Ziva's face. "I am not sure if.."

"Hey. Hey," he took the phone away from his ear, "I think you'll regret it. You don't know how long it's gonna be until you're here again."

The words, though she'd been repeating them seemingly as a mantra to herself to keep her on the ground, seemed to reverberate as they hit.

"What's making you hesitate?"

"It is not for me. Do you think... seeing me, I mean. Will it screw her up?"

Tony exhaled. He'd been thinking about this ever since she called. Remembered the few days after Cairo when getting Tali to sleep had been next to impossible. Equally, remembering the questions she was starting to have as she grew up and conscious of the way she was always so desperate to learn about her mother.

"I think it'll screw her up more if she doesn't see you."

The idea that they’d ever get to visit with Ziva, just spend even a couple of minutes of time with her, had been so outside of the realm of possibility until earlier today that Tony knew there was no way they could pass up the chance. It was important for both of them. For him, too – getting to see them together and remembering why they were doing all of this in the first place. It’s for Tali. On the hardest days, he always had to remember that.

“I have no idea what I will say to her. There is so much on my mind.”

Her voice sounded wistful and it made Tony wince a little at the thought of the reality of the situation. “Ziva,” he began tentatively, putting a hand softly on her knee. “You know she can only be here for a couple of minutes. I'm not-"

"I know." Ziva interrupted, closing her eyes and raising her hand. "I know. I need to leave too. I will leave when you do."

"Is that wise?"

"When we leave this room, do not acknowledge me. You take the elevator. I will go stairs. Turn in opposite directions."

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“I am not sure I can either.”

Wistful again still, she leaned down and covered his mouth with her own. Unlike their previous kisses this one was a little more relaxed: reassuring, and measured. Getting used to how each other felt again.

“Alright. Call her.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Tony felt for Ziva’s hand and entangled their fingers while he used his other hand to grab hold of his phone properly again. He soon had to let go again so he could dial, giving her an apologetic look that earned him the kind of wry condescending smile he never thought he would’ve missed.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Corine. I'm on my way back to pick Tali up now."

"Everything's sorted with your family?"

"Yes, thanks. Sorry I had to drop her on you so quickly but it's all fixed now."

Tony could sense Ziva watching him. He wondered if it was the French that surprised her.

"My husband came on his lunch break so we all went to eat at the café.”

"That's perfect, thanks so much. I totally lost track of time. I'll be there in 15 minutes. Thanks."

Tony hung up the phone and dropped it on his chest. Ziva was still watching him, and he turned to meet her eyes. He could see the seeds of doubt beginning to creep up again.

"This is a good thing. It'll do you good to see her."

Her head ended up back on him, and he wondered now if it was to hide her expression. He ran his hands quickly up and down her arm as though warming her up, comforting but mostly encouraging.

"This is a nice robe." Tony eventually said, and he felt Ziva laugh against his chest. Free, gleeful, if only for a moment.

"Are they the ones you get to steal?"

"What do you mean?"

"I cannot remember your rules - about things you can steal and from which hotel rooms. It was a very complicated system."

“Robes are fair game. If you don’t take it, they’re just gonna give it to someone else to use. It’s performing a service.”

“I think cleaners also perform that service.”

“Hey, you asked.” She looked up at him and he caught her eye – glinting, amused, as though they weren’t talking around what it was that was about to happen.

“How far away is the park?”

“Not far.”

“Do you go there often?”

“Not this one. We wanted to come up this way today and Tali’s friend lives nearby.”

“It is a coincidence that I came here.”

It was early afternoon by now and Tony thought about his original plans for the day – a pair of shoes and maybe lunch in a café before an afternoon at home. Somehow in a couple of hours the thought of the normal routine had come to seem ridiculous, so out of the realm of possibility for what they should be doing.

“I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“You think it was fate?”

Rather than respond he kissed her, bringing his face as close to hers as he could. Taking in her smell, the feel of her wet hair between his fingers, the way her breath stuttered just a touch.

When their lips separated he didn’t back away, keeping his forehead pressed against hers and his eyes closed.

"Are you scared?"

"Absolutely terrified." He answered easily, truths he didn't desire to stay hidden. “You?”

“Yes.”

He’d never known her to admit it so simply before, years of working together with such maturity that nothing had ever seemed to phase her.

“I think it’s natural.”

“How do you think she is going to react?”

It was interesting to Tony that Ziva’s concerns were focused so solely on the next couple of minutes rather than what lay ahead. He supposed that was a coping mechanism.

“I couldn’t say for sure. She might be a little nervous. She can be shy around new people, I don’t know if..”

“I realise that it may not be like a fairytale. I just do not want her to reject me.”

“Reject you? Ziva, she..” Tony pulled her upper body off of himself so he could sit up and get her to take in the words. “She would _never_ do that. She might be scared but you’re her _mom_. She knows everything about you. She loves you. You’ll see.”

He could see the anxiety bubbling away again, hands fidgeting, and she nodded as though to push it down.

“You should get going. I will get dressed.”

“Have some water, too. Alright?”

“Yes.”

“It’s gonna be OK.”

“I hope so.”

"Hey. I love you."

He realised his error in not saying the words back when she'd said them earlier, not taking advantage of every opportunity to let them out while he could. Like he had done in Cairo, shouted across a room and whispered against her skin.

Her eyes were wide. "I love you too."

"I'll be right back."


	4. Chapter 4

Tony didn't tell Tali what was going on until part-way through their walk back to the hotel, wrestling over the best way to phrase something that he was sure very rarely, if ever, had been said by anyone before.

News that her ima was waiting to see her seemed to in equal parts delight and fascinate Tali, who Tony thought sometimes viewed Ziva as almost mythical.

"But listen to me, Tali, OK? We can only see her for a couple of minutes. So we get to say hello and we can have hugs and kisses but then we're gonna go home."

"Ima has to go away again?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"Remember I told you about her big important job? Well, she managed to get a little bit of time especially so she could come and see you. She misses you very very much."

“I don’t want her to go.”

“Neither do I.”

“We get to talk?”

“Uh-huh, she wants to hear _all_ about what we’ve been doing.”

“About my volcano?”

Tali hadn’t yet been able to stop talking about the baking soda volcano her class had made earlier in the week. She’d begged Tony every night if they could make one at home.

“Oh yeah, she’ll wanna hear that. And you can tell her about your award.”

Tali looked up at him with an upset expression. “I don’t have it, it’s at home.”

“That’s OK, you can tell her all about it. I bet she’ll be really proud of you.”

That seemed to satisfy Tali, who sped up her feet as she began to drag him along the pavement.

* * *

Tony was expecting Ziva to spring up from her seat quickly to answer the door when he knocked, but he wasn't expecting it to be open before he'd even finished knocking. She must have been waiting next to it, watching through the peephole in anticipation for their arrival.

No amount of waiting could seemingly have prepared her for laying eyes on Tali, though, if the way her face crumpled was anything to go by. She knelt down in front of them and Tony squeezed Tali's hand.

“Hello, Tali.”

She sounded anxious and desperate, clinging to tone, and Tony could understand why it made Tali apprehensive. Emotions too complicated for young children to fully process.

"Oh, you got so big. Let me look at you."

Ziva didn’t reach out to Tali, waiting for her to make a move first. This was probably a wise decision given the way Tony could feel Tali tensing, and before either of them could say anything more she turned towards him and held her arms up in a way she hadn’t done in a while and he lifted her up, allowing her longer limbs to wrap around him. She rested her head on his shoulder but continued staring at Ziva.

“It’s OK.” Tony offered soothingly, not sure if he was addressing the girl clinging to his neck or the woman standing in front of him still trying not to cry, eyes now filled with fear too. “Come on, let’s sit down.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and manoeuvred so Tali was sat on his knee. After a silent conversation Ziva pulled the desk chair around so it was facing them and sat on it, a couple of feet of space between them. Her hands were folded carefully in her lap and she wrung them through each other a couple of times.

Tony watched Tali carefully, her nervous but defiant demeanour so reminiscent of Ziva, though the woman in question looked more guilty than anything else.

“Can you tell me what you’re feeling, Tali?”

Tony lowered his head at an angle so he could look her in the eye but she shrugged, lifting her shoulders up shyly.

“Sometimes when we haven’t seen someone in a long time it’s a little scary when we see them again. And that’s OK.”

“Not scared.”

“No?” Tali shook her head defiantly but was still a little shy, leaning towards Tony. “We don’t get to see ima very often so it feels strange when we do. But the best thing we can do is make the most of it when we see her, and then that way we can remember it in the future.”

"Are you home now?"

Ziva looked startled to be addressed so simply, her eyes widening a little before she leaned forward in her chair to bring her closer to Tali. Their heights almost matching. "Not yet, love."

"When?"

"I hope soon. I miss you very much."

Tali was fiddling with the hem of her shirt and Tony could tell it meant she was thinking about the words.

"Do you miss daddy?"

Ziva looked over Tali's head, and though Tony could imagine the apprehension on his own face at the tentative situation they were in Ziva was handling it better than he could've expected. Emotional, guilt written across her face, but holding her nerve. "Yes, I do. I miss him just like I miss you. And I know the two of you are being good over here, huh?" Tali hummed, swaying a little on Tony's lap. "It is nice for me to know that you are together because I love you both very much."

"And miss us."

"And miss you very much, too."

“Do you want hugs?”

Ziva’s mouth opened and closed. “Only if you want to. You never have to hug anybody you do not want to.”

“I want to.”

“OK.” The word was tinted with surprise, relief, and Tony was sure a million other feelings he couldn’t even imagine.

Tali climbed off his lap and approached Ziva with a finger in the corner of her mouth. When she finished the couple of steps she leaned towards Ziva who opened her arms to pull her in tightly, burying her face in her hair and enveloping her with limbs.

Tony was mesmerised by the sight – two people who meant more to him than anything in the world, two mirror images, soaking up the attention of the other as though there was nothing else for them in the world.

When Ziva pulled back, she gave Tali a kiss and ran a hand through the front of her hair.

“Look at you. You have grown up so much since I last saw you.”

He wondered if Tali recognised Ziva's smell as she buried her face in the crook of her neck, hiding her features, before pulling back again. She began playing with Ziva's earlobe. Ziva smiled at her instinctively.

"You used to do this when you were a baby."

"I'm not a baby."

"No, you aren't. You are a big girl now ahava, yes? Have you been taking care of your daddy for me?"

The peace that was radiated at him with the question was beyond anything he’d experienced before. How surreal it was, to be able to be so present in a moment like that.

“Uh-huh.”

“You have?”

“Sometimes he doesn’t get out of bed at the weekend.”

“Well, that is no good. Do you jump all over him to wake him up?”

“He says you wake up early.”

“That is right, I do. And I remember how much daddy hates it. Are you the same as me?”

Tali nodded, but her expression got a little lost again. Ziva tucked and re-tucked her hair behind her ear a couple of times.

"Did daddy tell you why I am having to be away?"

"Because you're finding bad guys."

"That's right. And that means I cannot be with you right now. And that makes me very sad, when I think about how long it has been since I have seen you. Because I love you very much."

Tali clumsily wiped her fingers on the apex of Ziva's cheek to wipe away tears that were long gone, an imitation of the same motion Tony made every time Tali was upset. The motion made him want to cry, too, but Ziva managed to keep a brave face.

“I am not upset now, though. Do you know why?” A shake of the head. “Because I have seen you, and I can see what a polite, kind, and happy girl you are being.”

“I got star of the week at school.”

“You did?”

“Because of the volcano.”

Tali had a habit like young children did of assuming that everyone in a conversation would know everything she referred to. Ziva, for her part, wasn’t phased. “That’s wonderful, Tali! I am very proud of you. Why don’t you tell me all about school?”

Tali was never one to wait for a second invitation to start talking, and began babbling happily through a nonsensical series of stories, all of which Ziva followed with a nod and a smile and encouraging comments (though Tony was certain she had no idea what Tali was talking about). When she was quiet there was almost a look on wonder on her face, and it struck Tony that the last time she’d seen Tali she’d barely been able to speak more than a few words in English. Evidently a lot can change in a couple of years, as she rambled in her soft American accent.

As time continued to pass Ziva began to glance at the clock on the wall behind the bed, and more and more Tony found himself catching her eye. Her expression was slowly changing as the minutes passed, still invested in every word that Tali was saying but looking to Tony for some form of comfort for what would come next.

Tony patted the bed next to where he was sat and Ziva and Tali came to join him, Ziva’s legs touching his all of the way down and the hand she had on Tali’s knee spilling onto his own. He drew over the skin with his finger, rubbing it as he tried to memorise the sound of their voices.

“I have something for you. Can you sit in my spot?” Ziva suddenly changed tack and Tali obeyed, getting up from Ziva’s lap and replacing her vacated spot on the bed next to Tony. Ziva moved towards the desk, picking up a few pieces of paper that Tony hadn’t noticed before. He could see small, cramped writing on both sides of the sheets, and Ziva folded theme each and placed them in Tali’s hands. “These are notes I have written for you that I want daddy to help you read on certain days. That way, even when I am not there, I can still give messages to you.”

Tali’s reading was very basic, but still she opened the letters for herself and began to look through them. Tony looked over her shoulder at the dates: tomorrow, next week, six months from now. The last one was dated Tali’s 6th birthday in 2020, which Tony quickly pushed away from his mind.

He wondered when Ziva had had the time to write them. She must have started before he got here and continued every time he’d left the room – the letters were long, and detailed. He pictured her writing them in her head over and over again, before she even knew she’d end up here. Practising the things she wanted to say.

“What do you say, Tali?”

“Thank you.”

“You do not have to thank me, they are especially for you.”

The three of them went quiet as Tali played with the pieces of paper, eyes scanning the words as though she understood and Tony found himself at a loss for what to say. He looked up for guidance, finding Ziva already looking at him with something indescribable in her eyes.

It was as though he could see her every thought reflected in them: asking, pleading, apologising, imploring him to take the lead where she couldn't.

As much as he was choking on the words, he knew Tali would take it better coming from him.

“I think we’re gonna have to head home soon, sweetheart.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I think daddy said you were going for ice-creams on the way home.”

“Can you come?”

Ziva swallowed. “No, I can’t. I am so sorry, Tali. I know this is very difficult. But I hope that I will be home very soon.”

"I have letters."

"That's right. And the two of you can read them together."

"Whenever you like, alright? We can read them every night."

“We don’t have letters for you.”

“I do not need letters. I have you right here.” Ziva put a hand on her chest and though Tali didn’t seem to follow, Tony wasn’t certain the gesture was aimed at her. “I will think about you both every day. But you have to promise me something.”

“What?”

“Will you promise to be a good girl until I get back?”

“Daddy says I’m the best girl.”

“Oh, well, good. You will not find it hard then, yes?” Ziva poked Tali’s ribs in a way that was so playfully motherly that it broke Tony’s heart to think about all of the time she’d spent not being able to do something as simple as that: to make a joke with her daughter, soaking in the moment and sharing a look with him over her head.

He cleared his throat to try and will himself back to the present.

“You need to go to the bathroom before we leave, sweetheart.”

Tali pulled her trademark sassy face that made Ziva actually, genuinely, laugh, such a distraction that Tony barely registered Tali disappearing into the bathroom and shutting the door behind herself.

"Call if you need help with the sink, alright?" He eventually shouted after her as the atmosphere very suddenly shifted back again as it had done countless times that day. He didn't have to look to know the quick burst of amusement had gone from Ziva's expression. The heavy pressing on his chest, like someone had driven a truck over it, enough of a sign of what was coming.

Tony turned back to Ziva and inhaled slowly, looking down at the floor before finally meeting her eyes.

"I... don't know what to say."

"You do not have to." Her smile was almost stately in his poise, perhaps more gracious than he deserved. "I know."

"I love you." He felt his own frown as he spoke but it wasn’t really a frown – a way of distracting himself, forcing words out rather than sobs or any other reaction he could feel pitted in his stomach.

"I love you too. I know we said, in Cairo… you did not want to say a proper goodbye..”

“Ziva.”

“I have to say it. Please just listen. If something happens, I want you to remember that. I love you. And please don’t stop yourself from living your life for my sake. Or for Tali’s – she needs you to be happy.”

“It doesn’t matter because nothing’s gonna happen.”

“I know you do not want to think about that. But I need to now. OK? Please remember that.”

“I will.”

Without hesitation he pulled her towards him, hands desperate on her neck and in her hair as he felt her lips hard against his own. He refused to pull away, savouring the moment and opening his mouth as he exhaled shakily through his nose. Ziva’s hands came up to cover his wrists but she didn’t pull away, stroking the skin and her tongue poking into his mouth.

When she did, finally, pull a little at his hands, he pulled back only enough so that he could look her in the eye. He could see her cheeks were wet and she attempted a smile that died again quickly.

“I am so sorry. About everything.”

“Please don’t apologise. This is harder on you than it is me.”

“Is it?”

He looked at her for a long moment, but wasn’t sure how to answer that. Instead he fumbled in his pants for his wallet and emptied it into his hand, thrusting some crumpled notes at Ziva.

"Tony.."

"Just take them. I'm sick of feeling useless."

Tali re-emerged from the bathroom with water splashed down her shirt.

“I told you to call if you couldn’t do it.”

“I did it.”

"Yeah, I can see that." Tony felt himself stalling again, clinging onto anything except the inevitable. "We have to say goodbye to ima now, Tali."

Tali looked up at Tony with her big, bright eyes in a way that might have been the final thing to break him had she not looked away at the exact right moment, casting her eyes to Ziva.

Ziva sunk to her knees and pulled Tali into her shoulder, wrapping her up tightly again with no regard for her bruised chest.

She was whispering in Hebrew and Tony caught the occasional words: love and child and brave and happy.

Her cheeks were streaked further when she stood back up and Tony could feel his own eyelashes were wet. She looked at him, again, and waited.

"You go left, I go right."

"Do not look back."

He nodded, as though it wasn't shattering their hearts in two, and somehow found a way to propel himself towards the door.

He wondered when all of this was going to hit him. Tonight, after he'd put Tali to bed, and he was left alone in a silent apartment. Tomorrow morning when he woke up in an empty bed and saw the letters on his pillow that he'd stay up rereading until dawn. Suddenly, next Tuesday, when he'd feel his legs go out from under him and crumble, smacked with the reality of what they were still fighting for every day of their lives.

Not now, his hand on the hotel room door, eyes glued to Ziva as though she'd disappear if he looked away. She nodded at him in encouragement but it took him another moment to gain the courage to pull the handle down and step out into the artificial light.

The hallway was empty except for the three of them. Tony took Tali's hand and clenched his other fist as tightly as he could to stop himself from squeezing hers.

It was as though time had sped up - hours passing in a flash before Tony's eyes as he found himself incapable of doing anything to stop the inevitable. Ziva looked between the two of them and back at the hotel room door, as though she might pull them both back in there and barricade it with chairs and refuse to leave until the apocalypse came.

Instead, in spite of what they'd said about walking away without a glance, she gave them a kiss in turn. Told them she loved them. Wiped her eyes. Sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and turned her back to them.

And just like that, yet another time in his life, he was forced to watch her walk away.


End file.
